


like a hurricane whip

by kimaracretak



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Archery Lessons, F/F, Not Quite Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 06:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4336910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/pseuds/kimaracretak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>things you said that i wasn't meant to hear</em>: Alina accidentally talks herself into getting an archery lesson from Zoya. It goes ... unexpectedly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a hurricane whip

The Second Army marches, and Zoya trains.

They all do, of course; the fate of far more than their country rests in their hands, and they are far less than ready. Practically any moment not spent eating or sleeping or walking is spent on weapons practice and strategy lessons.

But Zoya training is not, somehow, something that had occurred to Alina before. Oh, she knew the other girl was a soldier, even had the cracked and healed ribs to prove Zoya's command of hand-to-hand combat. But she had always thought of Zoya as Grisha first, soldier second (this is not, precisely, true, but dwelling on the days when she had dismissed Zoya as a court lady is too embarrassing to spend time on these days). So the day that she stumbles upon Zoya, alone in a clearing firing arrow after arrow into a tree that looked like it had seen better days even before Zoya started shooting at it, she makes a surprised noise very unbecoming of an army leader.

“Go away,” Zoya snaps, not even turning around. “Or be quiet until I finish this quiver.”

Alina should walk away. She's still not quite sure what terms she and Zoya are on, these days – disagreeable allies tilting towards a sort of prickly friendship, maybe – but Zoya, hair bound back and long sleeve tied at her shoulders, lip bit in concentration and arms flexing as she nocks and releases another arrow, is far too captivating of a picture for her to walk away from. So she stays silent, hand over her mouth to prevent her saying something unwise.

The bow looks like it should be far too big for Zoya's small frame, but, as with many other things in her life, Zoya seems not to have gotten the message that she shouldn't be using it. And she uses it well, too, braced solid against the recoil but quick and fluid on every reload. When she fires the last two arrows simultaneously and they both hit the scrap target dead center, Alina's jaw drops despite herself.

Zoya finally turns, then, sweeps a mocking curtsey with the trail of her _kefta_. “My lady commander.” It's not as cruel as it might once have been. In fact, Alina would almost have been disappointed if Zoya had said something straightforwardly nice.

“Zoya.” She inclines her head in greeting. “You look good with that bow.” And the compliment doesn't cost her nearly as much as it would once have.

Zoya's grin has too many teeth to be entirely genuine. “Thank you.”

“Although,” Alina can't resist poking at her just a little, “I never would have expected you to be a bow and arrow girl. Not easily concealable for a girl with so many masks.”

And, surprisingly, the smile softens. “I forget sometimes” Zoya says thoughtfully. “How little you know about Grisha powers. Watch.”

Alina pushes aside the snide comment she wants to make about the time she spent in lessons with Baghra aside and does. Zoya extends her arms, tanned and strong, and it takes Alina until the wind stirs the leaves at her feet to realize that for once it wasn't her that Zoya wanted her to watch. The arrows tug away from the tree trunks and arc gracefully towards them. She ducks, instinctively – but the arrows drop softly point-down into the quiver strapped across Zoya's back. “ _Oh_ ,” she whispers, understanding dawning.

“Mmhm,” Zoya hums in approval. “Not easily concealable. Easily _manipulated_.”

This is new, this blend of Grisha and non-Grisha talents. This is what's going to save her army. “That's . . .” she trails off. _Impressive_ is perhaps the least embarrassing thing that comes to mind. _Wonderful_ and _exquisite_ are uncomfortably high on the list. She can't stop staring at Zoya's clever fingers, now busying themselves with unstringing the bow for the walk back to their camp. “I've never really been one for archery,” she says instead, too fast and she knows Zoya must at least have a guess as to why.

Truthfully, she's never been one for weaponry at all, hence her original position as a mapmaker. This, too, she knows Zoya knows, but the girl is eyeing her with something so far from scorn as to be almost unbelievable. “Have you ever used a bow before?”

“Um.” Alina would give a lot to not be blushing as much as she feels like she is. “Technically. A couple times.”

Zoya bursts into laughter. “That bad?”

“Not – not _really,_ ” Alina stammers. She hadn't killed anyone. Or injured anyone, unless you counted herself – all the talk about recoil in the world hadn't prepared her for what it felt like to be knocked flat on her ass from it. “I was just. Better at other things. Like maps.”

Zoya arches an eyebrow. “I've seen your maps.” She sighs, and fishes for something in the pouch sitting at her hip. “Here,” she comes up with another bow string and a finger guard. “I can't have a commander who only uses her Grisha powers.”

She can't possibly be offering what Alina thinks she's offering. “What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ ,” Zoya huffs in disapproval, “that I'm going to teach you how to shoot a bow. Look, I'll even string it specially so you won't fall over the first time you release.”

Alina blushes harder, protests like _I'm not dressed for it_ and _What do you really want_ dying on her lips as she takes the proffered finger guard and watches Zoya's hands move across the bow and string. Those quick, clever hands that she's sure she's now going to spend an even more inordinate amount of time imagining on her bare skin.

“There we go,” Zoya says with satisfaction, handing the bow off to Alina and unstrapping her quiver. “Now. Pick an arrow and let me see your form. Let's see how bad at archery the Sun Summoner really is.”

Alina complies, bites her lip and tries not to fumble the arrow too much. She can feel sunlight skittering across her skin, nervous energy with no place to go. Zoya is close, so close behind her.

“Aim for the blue target,” Zoya instructs, “and let go when you're ready.”

If Zoya is far too close, the target is much too far. _Three … two … one._ The arrow goes at least ten feet wide and five feet short, but Alina stays standing, hand frozen near her mouth.

Zoya is silent for a very, very long moment. Alina wants to die of embarrassment. “Retrieve the arrow,” she finally says, and if she doesn't quite sound normal she at least doesn't sound like she's choking back a laugh.

Alina sets down the bow and tries not to leave too eagerly. The arrow's lodged firmly in the middle of a bush, and when she hears Zoya say _unfortunately_ _just as hopeless as she is_ _pretty_ over the rustling of the branches she's searching through she knows in her bones that she wasn't supposed to have heard that.

She should ignore that. Then again, she should have turned around when she first saw Zoya, or at least left before she could get roped into an archery lesson. And, anyway, when was the last time Zoya had complimented anyone but herself? So she stops her search, and half-turns towards her reluctant teacher. “What was that?” Maybe, just maybe, she mis-heard.

“N – nothing.” Zoya is too well trained to blush, but the way she stumbles over her denial tells Alina that Zoya had said – and meant – exactly what she had heard.

“Oh?” she asks. The wind through the trees shifts pitch. Picking up on Zoya's mood, maybe, or else Zoya's flustered enough that she's letting go of her control just the slightest bit. Alina walks back, search for the arrow abandoned. “'Unfortunately just as hopeless as she is pretty' has an awful lot of syllables to be _nothing_ , Zoya.”

Zoya opens her mouth, shuts it again, and Alina takes a second to revel in the thought of Zoya speechless before she finds words. “Fine. Nothing you should have _heard._ ”

Alina smiles, wider maybe than she has since this war began. “Oh, but I did.” Her voice is low, mischievous. She can't stop staring at Zoya, at her lips and hands. “You shouldn't say things in this army if you don't want me to hear them. What are you going to do about that?”

“Well,” Zoya steps forward, and she's too close again, but this time it's _better_ , because Alina can see her face. She reaches out, tangles her fingers in the end of Alina's braid and tugs her closer. “I have some ideas.” Zoya's breath whispers across her cheek, and the warmth rising under her skin has nothing to do with her Grisha powers for once.

Zoya hesitates, waiting for Alina to make the next move. To see if she'd gone too far. Alina laughs softly. This is either the best idea she's had in ages or the worst. Zoya's thigh pressing between her legs is making a pretty convincing argument for _best_. “Never let it be said I don't reward initiative,” she says, and kisses her.

Zoya kisses like she does most things, sweet and sharp with a studied perfection. In kissing, as in life, Zoya demands control, and for once Alina is willing to yield it, digging her fingers into Zoya's hips as the other girl's hands thread through her hair. In this moment, she wants Zoya more than she has wanted another person in a very long time.

When they break apart, breathless, Alina gives Zoya a wicked grin. “Well. If you wanted to give me an incentive to keep coming to archery practice, you've certainly succeeded.”

Zoya licks her lips. “Please. If we're going to repeat that, I want it to be somewhere where I can get you naked soon after.”

Alina narrows her eyes, trying to ignore the shot of arousal that thought sends through her. “What do you mean?”

Zoya rolls her eyes, not unkindly. “I mean that your incentive is, if you don't come to lessons, I don't do that again.”

So the Second Army marches, and Alina trains.

 


End file.
